Insanity Becomes You
by Paperdoll
Summary: When a person sees pure evil, it changes them forever. This is the story of its effects on one girl, her family and her friends. Slash and angst.
1. A Million Miles Away

A Million Miles Away

A/N: I've never written so many fanfics in so short a time! This is kind of slash, but so unbelievably mild that it hardly counts as one at all. Some disturbing themes though - thus the rating.

A zillion thank you's and loads of hugs to the nice people who reviewed the Happiness series. You are all fantabulous, wonderful people and I grovel on my knees before you. Ahem.

Disclaimer: All belongeth to J.K. Rowling, nowt belongeth to me. The song, Million Miles Away, belongs to The Offspring.

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She was so beautiful. Deep and mysterious. The sort of amazing beauty that you had to keep looking at. Whether male or female, you couldn't tear your eyes away from her.

But not her eyes. Her eyes were not beautiful.

They had been, once upon a time. Sparkling chestnut pools, filled with irrepressible joy. Her eyes were always smiling, even when her rosebud mouth was not. Now those incredible eyes were empty, desolate, dead.

"Morning Ginny," Hermione chirped with false cheerfulness, not expecting any response from the huddled figure in the corner of the room, whose hair, a shimmering wave of red-gold sunset, obscured her face, hanging almost to her waist.

"Good Morning Hermione." Hermione jumped at the sound of the hoarse voice. Her eyes opened wide and she almost dropped the blue plastic breakfast tray she was carrying. _Act as though everything is normal_, the little voice of her long years of psychiatric training told her.

"Are you going to eat your breakfast this morning or are we going to have to drip feed you again?" she asked pleasantly, trying to keep the tremor of nerves and excitement out of her voice.

"If you were served nothing but that crap, you wouldn't eat it either," Ginny stated matter-of-factly. "But I'll eat it if I must."

Hermione couldn't understand it. She had never had a patient like Ginny Weasley before. She had seen them of course, but they had all been assigned to more experienced doctors. Ginny was, and Hermione shuddered at the words, clinically insane. Driven to this awful state of insanity by her experiences during the war. And yet here she was, holding a perfectly ordinary conversation. Hermione had only been treating her for two weeks, not really long enough to get to know the finer points of her childhood friend's madness, but in all that time she had never heard Ginny utter a rational word, except to sing one of her silly songs.

"You're surprised, aren't you?" Ginny lifted her head, allowing the curtain of hair to swing back, revealing a wild, tense expression. "You thought I was too crazy to talk like this, didn't you. Well, you learn something new every day, Miss Smarty-Pants-Psychiatrist."

Hermione was anxious not to lose the moment. "So why haven't you spoken to me until now?"

For a moment Ginny seemed flawed by the question. "I-I…" her face took on a terrified look. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"Ginny, it's alright. It's me, Hermione."

Ginny became calm again. "Of course it's you," she laughed. "No one else comes to visit me any more. Not even Harry."

Hermione was taken aback and dropped her guard for a minute. She said the sentence she knew she shouldn't. "Ginny, Harry's dead. He was killed defeating Voldemort…" But Ginny seemed to be in a world of her own.

"You would have thought that my husband would came and visit me. But no, famous Harry Potter hasn't time for little Ginny any more," she mused, staring at the ceiling, a peculiar lilting quality in her voice.

"Ginny," Hermione tried to break into the other girl's dream world, but to no avail. Ginny started to sing again.

"_When I went away, what I really left_

Left behind was me.

It's telling me

To be on my way home

Million miles away

I can't stay."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hi Hermione."

"Ron," Hermione looked up coolly. "It's been a while."

"I've been busy. What with Lavender and the kids, and this new job…"

"Yes, of course. _Lavender_."

"Not still jealous are you?" he smirked.

"Grow up Ron," Hermione snapped, not in the mood for jokes. Jealous of Lavender was the last thing she was. Not that Ron could be expected to know anything about _that_.

He shifted uncomfortably. "So. How is she?"

Hermione was about to come out with her standard "about the same" answer, but something stopped her. Ron had the right to know about their little conversation, after all, he was one of Ginny's few relatives who was still alive.

"Well, yesterday, she…I don't know, she talked to me. You know, like she was, well, normal." She related the details of the incident to him. He gaped at her for a few minutes, before regaining his composure.

"That's the longest conversation she's had with anyone since, you know, since she was found. It must be a good sign" He gave a watery grin. "Can I see her?"

"Sure." Hermione led him over to Ginny's room and unlocked the door. "Some one here to see you Ginny," she said, but the redhead showed no sign of having heard her. She shrugged and let Ron walk past her into the room. She tactfully backed off, but couldn't resist listening outside the door.

"Hi Ginny," he said. No reply. He carried on talking anyway. "I know it's been a long time since I last saw you, so there's lots of news. I got a new job at The Daily Prophet. I'm the sports sub-editor - I get to write about Quidditch! Lavender's pregnant again, if it's a boy we're calling it Matthew, but we weren't sure about a girls name. William's really excited about it. He started primary school last month and he's loving it. We miss you loads, Bill and Percy and me. Ginny? Can you even hear me?" his voice cracked and he paused his monologue.

Dead silence filled the room. Hermione, leaning against the wall outside with her ear pressed to it, prayed for Ginny to speak. To say something to ease Ron's misery. Anything. As if on cue, Ginny voice rang out.

"I can hear you," she said. Ron gasped.

"Oh Ginny! Ginny…" he seemed at loss for words.

"I've been shocking everyone recently," she mused. "I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid."

"Why didn't you talk until now? We've been going out of our minds with worry!"

"I don't know," said Ginny calmly, then burst into tears. Hermione rushed in, to find Ron seated on the edge of he bed. He reached out to hug Ginny, but she pushed him away and wrapped her arms around her knees, the tears streaming down her face. As Ron and Hermione watched, she began to rock back and forth and sing under her breath.

"_ When I went away, what I really left_

Left behind was me."

Hermione walked over to Ron and took his arm. "You won't get anything else out of her now," she said. He turned to her, looking forlorn and followed her to the door. Just before they went out, Ginny's voice reached them.

"If it's a girl, call it Molly."

They spun around but she had gone back to her singing and rocking, her face closed and expressionless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How long have I been here?"

"Over a year now, Gin."

"How much longer do I have to stay?"

Hermione didn't want to answer that question. Just yesterday, Ginny had asked the same thing and the conversation had ended with Ginny accusing Hermione of keeping her a prisoner. But Ginny was insistent.

"How much longer, Hermione? Tell me!" she raised her voice.

"I don't know Ginny! As long as it takes!" Hermione knew that the worst thing she could do was lose her temper, but it was so hard. Ginny was so infuriating. She had been so much better recently, on the road to recovery, so it seemed. But these last few days she had almost reverted to her silent state, except for little bursts of conversation like this one.

"Ginny," said Hermione softly. She knew she mustn't get too involved with her patients, but this was different. She had known Ginny since they were kids together. She sat on the edge of the other girl's bed and put her arm around her. She felt the familiar shiver run down her spine.

"Talk to me Ginny. You can tell me. You know you can. You always used to tell me everything, remember?"

Ginny looked up, her eyes wet with tears. "I don't remember anything," she whispered brokenly. "Tell me, Hermione. What happened?"

"You were an auror Ginny. You fought the dark wizards, until they caught you. We thought you were dead, until you were found during a Ministry raid, long after the war had ended. I want you to try to remember what happened before you were found. I know it hurts, but you have to remember if you want to get better."

Ginny's face registered such intense emotion, that Hermione almost couldn't bear it. She wanted to hug the other girl close, to tell her it would all be OK. To kiss her. No! she held herself back, pushing the unwanted feeling away from her mind.

Ginny opened her mouth and, for a moment, Hermione thought she was going to talk about it all at last. She tensed herself subconsciously.

"Get away from me," Ginny hissed maliciously. Hermione jumped back in shock, but not quickly enough. "GET OUT!" Ginny screamed, shoving Hermione backwards so hard that she fell to the floor. "GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" Ginny's cries became incomprehensible and turned into hysterical screaming. She screamed until she threw up onto the floor, then sank back, sobbing and rocking herself. Back and forth, back and forth. And then the muttering, that gradually became words, then a song.

__

"It's telling me

To be on my way home"

Hermione scrambled to her feet and ran out of the room. She sank onto her knees in the corridor and sobbed her heart out. No one disturbed her. Maybe no one noticed. 

All the old warnings flooded into her head. Never treat some one you know. Never let it get personal. She cried until there were no tears left. Then she went home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Ginny was removed from Hermione's patient list. One of the other doctors, a woman with years of experience, took over for her. Hermione missed her. More deeply than anyone would ever know. No one could ever know that Hermione Granger had been in love with Ginny Weasley. Hermione tried to forget Ginny ever existed. It was the only way to get through it.

But every day, when she walked past Room 104, she heard a snatch of song. That haunting, broken voice that followed her wherever she went.

"_When I went away, what I really left_

Left behind was me.

It's telling me

To be on my way home

Million miles away

I can't stay."


	2. Life Apart

A/N: Yes it's short, yes it's twisted. From Ginny's POV this time.

Disclaimer: All is J.K. Rowling's except the plot which is mine etc etc.

****

Life Apart

When you've been so fucking close to evil, when you've touched the very edge of pure, unrepentant evil, how can you be expected to come bouncing back, happy and carefree as you ever were?

Have you ever seen someone who is evil? No? I have. It's something so dark that you can never come back. Once you've been to the edge and seen beyond it, life can never be the same.

That's what _they_ don't understand. They want me back, but I can't come back. Innocence is a wonderful thing. They are all innocent, whether they know it or not. I am not innocent, and once innocence is lost, it can never be regained. That's why I can't go back. To live in that world, a person _needs_ that innocence. I'm hardly even a real person without that.

The evil scarred me, just like it scarred Harry, all those years ago. The difference was that his scar was visible. People could see it and understand it. No one can understand my scar. Instead, they threw me in here, to be alone with my scar and my pain for the rest of my life. 

I can't blame them really. They can sense the brooding presence of the evil in me, even if they don't realise they can. The darkness drips from my very fingertips, radiating its presence. It rests inside me, eating my body, killing my soul.

I say "rests", but a less fitting word is hard to think of. It is always active, always working to keep me down. It crowds my brain, torturing my mind. I'm not mad, but if this continues, as I know it must, I can't see how I'll be able to stay sane. There's safety in madness, because once you are mad, you can't feel any more and I need not to feel.

I suppose I'll be here forever. Sometimes I miss my old life, but it's pointless to dwell on it. 

I can never go back.


End file.
